While Bothwell hurriedly buckled on a suit of armour that was lying near--for, as we said elsewhere, no man could with safety venture a yard from his own door unarmed--the Countess lay on the crimson settle, with her face covered by her hands, over which her long black hair was flowing in disorder.
The clank of armed heels and steel scabbards in the antechamber, heralded the approach of the knights, and their mail flashed as the heavy arras was drawn aside, and they stood before the Earl.
"The Norwegian hath been here!" whispered the latter to Ormiston.
"Konrad of Saltzberg--thou rememberest him," he added aloud; "and he hath bewitched the Countess--a French sorcerer, Bolton, anent whom I will tell thee another time. Horse and spear! Thou, Ormiston, and I, must ride, scour the woods, and slay without reservation or remede if we find him. Nay, that were too cruel, perhaps; let us capture him, at all events. Tell your people, sirs, he is a tall fellow, with a long sword, a corselet, breeches and hosen of sable sarcenet. Twenty unicorns to the finder and capturer!"
"We must breathe our steeds first," said Ormiston, as he drew the clasps and buckles of the Earl's armour; "we have had a tough night's work with Clelland and Lauchope. They stood it stoutly, with a hundred lances and fifty archers a-side. We have had a raid on Bothwell-muir that will make a noise among the justiciary lords at Edinburgh."
"Because, at Candlemas last, one took precedence of the other in crossing Calder brig."
"A just cause and a proper for three hundred blockheads to tilt at each other's throats! And how comest thou, Hob, to lift lance in this wise feud?"
"And thou, Bolton, why wentest thou with thy fifty lances?"
"So may ye all _hang_ together in the end!" said the Earl, angrily; "while I, your lord and feudal superior, want you, ye are fighting under other banners. Now, Paris, my sword and salade. Summon my grooms, and let us to horse--the fellow cannot be far off yet."
Hob of Ormiston was sheathed in a favourite suit of black armour, which he usually wore to render his sobriquet more complete; but Bothwell's particular friend and ally, Hepburn of Bolton, who was captain of his castle of Hermitage, and lieutenant of Queen Mary's Archer Guard, wore a magnificent suit of polished steel, the gorget and shoulder-plates of which were riveted with rows of golded-headed nails. He was a young and handsome man, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with merriment and good humour under the uplifted visor of his helmet.